


Captive Audience

by AltarfSomnium



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Nightmares II Spoilers, Major Character Injury, eventually, inspired by concept art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltarfSomnium/pseuds/AltarfSomnium
Summary: The music box isn't the only thing waiting in the Tower.Or, things play out slightly differently when Mono releases the Thin Man. This changes everything, and very little at the same time.
Relationships: Mono & Six (Little Nightmares), Mono & The Thin Man (Little Nightmares), Mono/Six (Little Nightmares), Six & The Thin Man (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 210





	1. Broken Record

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ _-_

Six, begrudgingly, liked Mono a lot - he’d done some very impressive things during their time together. He’d fought off inhuman monsters, saved her from captivity (twice, embarrassingly) and had stuck by her side through it all, despite her best efforts to make sure he _really_ knew what he was getting into.

However, jumping into a TV the literal _instant_ he was out of her sight, and managing to release whatever _thing_ lived inside wasn’t exactly going to be topping the list of Mono’s Greatest Accomplishments - she spitefully thought, gesturing at him wildly to follow. He kept doing this, too! It’s like he’s got no survival instinct whatsoever!

Despite her best efforts, Mono still sat there, deliriously staring at the TV. She didn’t see much, having pulled his dangling legs out as soon as she saw him lodged in the screen, but whatever he saw must’ve done something to him - he looked hypnotised by the blinding glow of the TV. Damn it, they didn’t have time for this!

She followed his gaze for a brief moment; the TV showed a thin, dark figure in the midst of white noise. As if sensing her confusion, the waves of static shifted, and the figure drew a few paces closer.

Something wasn’t right - they needed to get out, now. She looked one more time back at Mono, only see him stand up, eyes so infuriatingly hidden behind his mask, and take a step _towards_ the TV. _No, you idiot, what are you -_

Hands, fartoo large, press against the screen. The world shivers and bends as they both lurch backwards, Mono letting out a pained grunt, clutching his head. Not for the first time, Six is thankful for her lack of sensitivity to the TVs. She’s about to turn and run, hoping Mono will break out of his stupor and follow along, when the faint outline of a head starts pressing against the glass, and specks of light rush towards the quivering screen. Time’s running out.

As the Thin Man bursts into reality like something out of a nightmare, her decision is made. Six clasps Mono’s cold, clammy hand in her own and drags him towards the door, practically sprinting to accommodate for his stumbling, vacant gait.

_What am I doing?_

All thoughts of self-preservation are left behind as she pulls Mono into the corridor, taking a glance behind her to see the Thin Man uncoil to a dizzying height, staring darkly at her from across the room behind shut eyelids. She gulps, and her usual confidence begins to waver under the oppressive, pupilless gaze - until shattering completely as they open slowly, as if emerging from a dream himself.

His eyes - what remains of them, anyway - burn with a darkness all too familiar to Six. Grossly dilated pupils widen, before shrinking rapidly down to the smallest of black rings. Acclimating to the real world? Hazy, greyish-brown irises wander the room before locking onto her, a predator locating prey - pinpricks of shifting white noise flicker to life in an instant, static-filled irises boring directly into the fibre of her being, and every nerve in Six’s body screams at her to _run._

She jolts from her paralysed state, and as the Thin Man takes his first deafening step towards her, breaks into a rush. Mono, blessedly, seems to have come to his senses by now - he too is running, hand glued to Six’s like a lifeline, as fast as possible from the beast _he_ let loose.

 _Can’t stop. Stop, and you’re both dead._ These thoughts cycled through Six’s head like a broken record as they sprinted through the hallway, static pulling at her and making each step sluggish and dreamlike - a far cry from the Thin Man’s steady, almost relaxed pace. She notices Mono’s head swivel as they run, but she doesn’t look back - she didn’t like what she saw in the Thin Man’s shadowed eyes, not one bit, and she'd rather look again for as long as she lives.

That might not be too much longer, though, if they don’t find someplace to hide, and quickly. The world seems to shake around her, breaking down under the sheer presence of the thing hunting them, and for once she starts to think they might’ve bitten off something they can’t chew.

(A dark part of her giggles at that.)

Mono whimpers, tenses and hurries forward even more as echoing footsteps follow, taking the lead. She’s surprised, given his previous state, but she’s certainly not going to argue. He pulls her around a corner into a bedroom, children’s drawings and sketches lining the walls. _This’ll have to do_ , she thinks. She slides under a table, about to grip Mono’s hand and move to pull him close to her, but he’s already let go of her hand and is rushing towards the bed on the opposite end of the room. Yeah, this hiding spot didn’t seem big enough for two people, anyway.

It’s only now that Six begins to worry if the spot is even big enough for one. She coils further backwards, but feels no less exposed.

Mono himself only barely manages to make it under as black boots and long, long legs enter through the doorway, blocking any escape. The buzzing is almost unbearable, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears. She pushes herself as far back as possible, and holds her breath, hoping the Thin Man doesn’t notice the bright yellow shape only a few paces away.

She can see his face, from this angle. Trying her best to calm her movements, Six hesitantly raises her eyes. They meet another pair, jet-black and cold as ice. He’s looking in her direction, eyes finally and wholly visible beneath the cover of darkness.

Squinting under the unrelenting gaze, there’s so many things in those eyes, she can tell - so much fighting within those flickering static pools. She can’t begin to interpret them - what goes through the mind of someone so inhuman? (some _thing_ , she reminds herself - even if this ashen-grey monster appears in control of his senses, he’s clearly not any different from the rest of them _)_ The one that most immediately jumps out at her is something she’s used to wearing herself.

Pure, animalistic hate. Directed right at her.

_Oh no._

The table - no, the whole room - rattles under the Thin Man’s glare, and fear grips Six in a vice. She scuttles across the floor, but trips - _no, no, no -_ landing on her side, air pushed out of her lungs like a deflating balloon. She’d aimed to make it to where Mono hides, but it’s far too late for that now.

Fighting through the needles of pain in her side, she looks up at the hateful leer as he reaches his long arm out, ready to crush the life out of her -

Then, there’s a grunt. Something small and colourful comes hurtling out of nowhere, right at his head.

The object - _is that a crayon?_ \- bounces off his hat ineffectually. The Thin Man’s stare lifts, hate replaced by bewilderment, and that’s all the time Six needs to scurry under the bed, safely out of sight.

Six rolls over hard floorboards and scraps of paper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, ( _mostly failing)_ when she makes contact with something particularly lumpy. _Mono’s bag._

Her heart stops. _Where’s-_

There’s a thud as a figure leaps down from the bed’s covers. She’s confused for only a second at the dark mop of wild, unfamiliar hair before she looks down and sees the long grey coat and scuffed trousers that she knows so well.

She wants to scream, to latch onto him, do anything to pull him away from the _monster_ that blocks their escape - but she’s paralysed. Mono’s unaffected by the same fear, or if he is, he’s doing an admirable job at hiding it. Not for the first time, she wonders if any of this is real, if she’ll wake up in a cold sweat within the next few minutes. _As if_. He blocks the Thin Man’s gaze from crossing Six’s hiding spot, and faces him down.

Nothing happens, for what seems like an eternity.

Then, Mono lifts a hand. Six is stunned into silence. The air seems to throb around him, the same motes of light from earlier clinging to him, drawing them towards himself, something _new_ and _untapped_ oozing from his stance. The Thin Man, for the first time, shifts his expressionless face to a deep frown.

With an almost frantic buzz of what-could-be words, the Thin Man splays out his hand wildly-

-and Mono’s leg twists and _cracks_ from under him, motes of light released into the air.

The scream is agonising, and Six sobs silently to herself. As Mono clings to his enfeebled limb, hyperventilating, the arm he had held so resolutely in the air crumples too, the sickening sounds of fractured bone overwhelming the frenzied static.

Amidst Mono’s renewed crying, the Thin Man’s frown shrinks, and his mouth opens and moves, clearly saying something - but her heart booming in her ears and the hum of ceaseless white noise stops her from making anything out. Mono lifts his head, facing the Thin Man. She can’t see his face. From behind his back, Mono’s hand limply stretches out towards Six, palm open.

Six, frozen in disbelief, is just a moment too late. Her hand reaches out to his, but before their skin makes contact, the devil in a suit extends his arm, sighing. The static echoes, and in an instant - yet, painfully slowly - Mono vanishes into it, an unmuffled cry piercing her ears and fading in a split-second.

There’s only a shadowy silhouette left sitting on the floor, and her hand passes right through its own. It raises its head loosely to the sky, twitches a few times, and eventually fades to nothingness.

Out of the corner of her eye, fixated upon where Mono had sat only seconds earlier, she semi-consciously notices the empty doorframe, devoid of tired eyes or towers of grey fabric. It's not as reassuring as it should be.

The Thin Man is gone.

_Mono is gone._

_Mono is -_

A strangled cry escapes her lips, and she lies there - cold, empty and alone - for a long while.


	2. Collateral

Six wasn’t exactly a stranger to having people taken from her.

She’d travelled with other kids, before Mono - whether big or small, smart or strong, they all made mistakes in the end, and all it took was one mistake to claim a life. The world was a cruel place, after all.

It didn’t care that Ratty Shirt Boy had been tired - running for a good minute and a half - and was just a _hair_ off the elevator gates when they shut.

It didn’t care that Raincoat Girl had made her way through the entirety of that death-trap Nest, but never learned how to swim.

( _it didn’t care that Louie had twisted his leg on a broken pipe, and Six was so, so h u n g r y)_

She couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t bothered her the first couple of times. Losing someone who you’ve travelled with is painful for someone unused to it - however, Six was anything but unused to death.

So, why was this time so much more _difficult?_

Six revelled in death, after all. Both narrowly escaping it and wielding it herself without complaint - it followed in her wake like a poison. The concept had lost all threat to her, especially with more _pressing_ things to worry about, things that caused immediate pain, both external and internal.

The fact of the matter was that either she lived, or suddenly it’s not her problem anymore - a motto that’s served her well. Unfortunately, others didn’t seem to share her luck.

_And, yes, death is what’s probably going to happen to Mono - if it hasn’t caught him already._

Six was anything but an optimist. Mono was usually the one to inject life into their little dynamic - forcing words out of her when they first met was a task she was determined to make as difficult as possible, but he kept poking and prodding regardless. _Good times_.

But, he was gone now. There was no use dwelling on the past, right? Not when there’s still the most important life of all to save - herself.

( _that line was much less encouraging this time around)_

Six tried her hardest to ignore the gaping pit in her stomach. After what could’ve been minutes, ( _hours? everything was such a blur)_ she slowly made her way out from underneath the bed, kneeling on the floor, everything aching. After a moment staring emptily at the faint outline upon the floorboards and small puddles of clear water drying beneath her, she rose to her feet.

_You’ve done this before. Just keep moving._

Six’s lips twisted into a scowl.

_You’ve only been with each other for a few days at most._

Her eyes fell to the floor.

_You’ll move faster now. No need for time-wasting conversations, or useless games, or moments of-_

The pit widened.

Then, an idea came to her - a small, faint hope settling in her chest. She needed to check the TV.

_(and if she gingerly picked up the crumpled paper bag, making sure not to put even the smallest tear into it, sliding it into one of her pockets, well, that’s no one’s business but her own.)_

Trying her best to clear her mind of everything from earlier, Six found herself crossing the hallway stiffly, only pausing at the entrance to the living room. Could the Thin Man still be there, watching, patiently waiting for the object of his hatred? Either way, it was a risk she had to take.

See, Six’s idea was simple, but genius. Most of her ideas were! The TV was obviously some sort of gateway to wherever the Thin Man made his home - and it seemed to go both ways. Mono was able to do it, after all. So, she’d go and turn the TV on, wave her hand on it or something and do what Mono did, and go inside and look for him. _Easy._

_(or, at least find out what happened to him)_

Admittedly, Six could find several holes in this plan if she looked hard enough. She didn’t care. As long as there’s a chance Mono was still alive, she’d take it.

Shaking her head, Six took a deep breath and strode into the living room. Evidence of the Thin Man’s presence was everywhere - she was half expecting a spotless, unchanged room, like it was all just a bad dream, but the toppled furniture and crooked bookshelves spoke otherwise. Everything had been touched in some way by his otherworldly presence, besides the TV in the centre of the room, which glowed with the same white ripples that started this whole problem.

Quickly, she ran over to the TV and ran her hands over the screen experimentally. Nothing happened. Brow furrowed, she did her best to mimic what Mono did the few times he was near a TV and _didn’t_ go toppling into it, ( _he’s like a moth, seriously)_ pressing a flat palm across the screen and holding a hand to her temple.

Still nothing.

Hopes fading, she balled up her fist and slammed it across the top of the TV. This time, something changed - the ripples wobbled for a brief moment, before continuing as normal. Progress. Six repeated this for a while, smacking various parts and fiddling with dials, until finally the TV sprang to life.

Well, the ripples didn’t change - no part of her was able to fit through the TV like Mono did so effortlessly, which was frustrating, but at least it was making recognisable sounds now. Static buzzed through the TV’s speakers, a sound that grated on Six’s ears (and probably would for the rest of her life) but an indicator that she was doing something right.

Still, generic white noise wasn’t the most helpful thing in the world. At least it wasn’t ricocheting off the walls like the anthem of the Thin Man, but it was still annoying. Letting out a growl through her teeth, she smacked the TV a couple more times, but the static continued to play, as if mocking her.

_How does Mono work these things? This is stupid._

Six growled once more and kicked the TV. Not on the screen - despite her complete inexperience with technology, she had the presence of mind to know that if she broke this one, it could be a long time until she finds another, and Mono’s chances of survival were already dwindling by the minute.

Then again, force seemed to work the first time…

_Fine._

The next ten minutes were honestly a testament to the craftmanship of whoever designed the TV’s. Six unleashed a barrage of blows upon the TV; punches, kicks, throwing random objects, biting at one impassioned point, even tipping it over a few times. Despite her hands getting sore, and the buzzing still infuriatingly constant, Six continued - more out of frustration than anything else. She would have probably broken the TV at some point were it not for a mistake when jumping up and down on top of it for the fourth time.

Namely, getting a bit too enthusiastic with her yelling and arm movements, sending the contents of her pockets flying. Fortunately enough, there wasn’t much - the raincoat, despite being exceedingly fashionable and comfortable ( _her cheeks flushed, memories flooding back)_ didn’t have much in the way of actual storage space. Picking up scattered paper, ripped photos and a hairpin took a few moments, but at the end of it all her pockets were still feeling a bit lighter than before. Six took another curious look around, only to notice Mono’s bag lying next to the screen. _Can’t forget that._ As she tiptoed forwards to pick it up, a loud buzzing assaulted her ears, sending her reeling backwards.

_Is he back? No, no, not when I’m getting somewhere -_

Thankfully, the buzzing quietened when she was a good distance from the TV. She’d have to get the bag, though. Wouldn’t want to upset Mono. ( _Difficult in the first place, to be honest.)_ Six was just about to clamp her hands over her ears and approach when the buzzing started intensifying.

It wasn’t as bad as the Thin Man’s, but it still grated on her ears. Grimacing, she approached the bag, static getting louder and louder, paper coated in a blinding white glow -

**_“…too…loud…”_ **

_What? Wait, was that-_

The static bloomed to a crescendo as a small hand, bony and pale, pressed against the inside of the screen. Six’s heart leapt, a yelp of surprise expelling from her mouth as she rushed over to the splayed palm, sliding to her knees and desperately pressing her hands against it. The palm twitched, although she couldn’t feel hers making contact with anything besides hot, shifting glass.

Six’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. Her tongue, so unused to forming words, refused to follow her instructions as she flailed her hands across the screen, trying desperately to breach the barrier.

The pale palm moved slightly, adjusting its position to more of a grabbing hand. The distorted, buzzing voice grew a few levels louder.

 ** _“…need…give it…”_** The hand flexed, gripping onto something illusory.

At this point, Six didn’t even consider if it was a trick or not. Her survival instinct was numb and had been for a good while, buried under several feelings she didn’t want to think about right now. All she heard was Mono’s pained whispers, synthesised from layers of interlocking noise and frequencies, and the decision was made before she even knew what was happening.

Six picked up the bag in her left hand, and the static buzzed warmly as she began slowly moving it towards the screen. Then, about halfway there, the hand pressed tighter against the screen, sending another coating of static into the air.

She was just about to wonder how exactly this whole exchange thing was going to work, when the hand drew back.

_No!_

Six pushed the bag closer to the TV. The static drew quiet, then began to rise, and rise, and -

 **_*_ ** **_CRASH*_ **

A hand bursts forth from the screen, sickly chalk-white, only marred by occasional spots of dull red -its fingers leaving trails of translucent grey cubes in their wake, falling onto the carpet like flecks of snow. Caught by surprise, Six drew back, yelling and dropping the mask onto the floor.

The pale hand twitched and fell, coiling around the bag. As it caressed the paper, Six reacted on instinct, pouncing forwards and clinging onto the hand. Strangely enough, it didn’t struggle, content to run its fingers across the bag’s surface, a man adrift at sea clinging to his raft.

This went on for a few moments, Six clutching the hand and upper arm. Said upper arm was worryingly thin - if this was Mono, _something_ must be going on in the TV. He hadn’t even been in there for that long, right? Feeling further up his arm, her fingers brushed across something cold, bulky and metal.

The hand recoiled as if burned, clinging onto the bag and attempting to retreat into the screen, a hiss of white noise accompanying it. Six jolted - sparks danced between her fingertips, her movements once again slow and difficult - invisible weights pressing on her limbs. The maybe-Mono arced his fingers back (snapping of bone filling the air between them) before clutching to the paper mask with renewed purpose. Her stomach drops. If he takes it back inside the TV…

Everything in Six’s body reacts - panic too weak a word to describe it. She surges forward as maybe-Mono’s arm steadily retreated into the blue-white void, her every movement a struggle, a puppet fighting against its strings. _Come on, move!_ Inching steadily towards the screen, Six made one final, desperate grab at the screen - aiming for the bag, the hand, the static itself, anything.

Her fingers are mere _inches_ from the corner of the mask, when half of it is already consumed into the screen, the rest about to follow. _No, just a little further!_

A noise bursts from her throat of its own accord, muffled through clenched teeth.

_“Mono!”_

Everything stops.

It comes out ragged, the unfamiliarity of speech slithering across her tongue, a spreading blaze of fear and shame intertwined through her body. Talking - actual speech - is _off limits._ Dangerous, pointless, casting aside a shield of silence that’s served her so well. It’s terrible, and _cockroaches fill her lungs, writhing, bile rising in her throat-_

Grips lighten in sync, and the bag falls to the ground.

Both of them freeze, Six so desperately wanting to throw her hands against her mouth, ( _stop the poison from spreading)_ but something in her holds back the shame for now. The sickly hand holds as still as a prop.

Blinking, she seizes the bag from the floor and leaps back.

The hand, as if woken from a trance, moves imperceptibly and starts combing the floor. _That does it._ She’d expected to go into the TV, but the opposite will have to do. As long as the maybe-Mono doesn’t tear her to pieces, if she has him confused with someone ( _something)_ else. Six creeps closer and closer to the hand.

It freezes as her foot touches down a short distance away. Predator and prey - the thought comes unbidden to her mind. The thought is upsetting, but invigorating at the same time. Six lunges, takes hold, and _pulls_. She’s expecting one of two things - either she hits a snag, or pulls him out, fully prepared to accept whatever consequence that brings.

This is not what happens.

Like grease, the hand slips through her fingers. She _has no idea_ how. One moment she held it tightly, the other, it almost seemed to move _through_ her. A numbness seizes her fingers from the contact.

Without a gesture, it sinks beneath the waves. She tries to catch it, of course - but part of her already knows it’s futile. Indeed, all her hands do is bump uselessly into the liquid noise of the TV.

When the TV starts to whine at an uncomfortable pitch, when the waves begin to warp and distort, she follows her instinct and hops behind an armchair. A crack splits the screen, and shards of glass spill out like blood from a wound.

She smirks mirthlessly. Well, at least she’s not going to be getting any _unwelcome visitors_ for now. Recoiling her hand back, Six glances down at the bag, miraculously still in one piece.

Huh.

Something’s clearly inside the TVs - something besides Mono’s suspiciously absent kidnapper. Six doesn’t know for sure what, ( _she tells herself, but part of her dares to hope)_ but it’s clearly not open to visitors. That ( _mostly)_ renders part of her plan kaput.

However, this raincloud has a silver lining - she thinks, inspecting the bag. She has something that it wants, something it craves more than anything, something - clearly - it would literally pierce through reality to get. Despite everything - the exhaustion in her arms, the pulsing of dead air, the remnants of filth still burning on her tongue - she allows a faint smile to come to her lips.

She’s going to get Mono out of there. This is no new realisation, this has been her goal since the start - but it’s only now that she truly, wholeheartedly believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The AO3 posting time bug is the bane of my existence, so if you see chapters reuploaded and deleted multiple times, that's why. Next chapter should be giving Six a break from being harassed by men from the TV.
> 
> All feedback and comments are appreciated - I'm still very rusty.


	3. Backstage

Why _does_ she wear her raincoat? It’s a question that Six is sure puzzles Mono, although he’s never had the guts to say it to her face, the thoughtful little nerd that he is. She’s not stupid - she knows how noticeable it makes her, how it sticks out in almost any bush or corner, how it sags over her eyes from time to time. It’s a hindrance to survival in every way.

So, she understands why he’d wonder - maybe she’ll tell him, when all this is over.

Truthfully, it’s a mixture of many things; the snugness, the concealment from prying eyes, even the poisonous yellow is something she adores - a warning to stay away, and for good reason. There’s the smoothness of the surface, letting the clumsy mitts of adults slip right off her, not to mention how easily it loses fresh coats of blood, which tends to happen enough to be a problem. _Not that she’s complaining._

There’s also the matter of the elephant in the room, and the reason Six stumbled onto this line of thought in the first place.

_*achoo*_

She hates the rain.

There was nowhere to go after the TV broke, you see - at least, nowhere for someone without the same survival experience and insight as Six. Mono would’ve wandered around for a while, probably trying to open _doors_. Ha!

(The thought of Mono hopping up and down, trying to reach a doorknob and huffing adorably, enters her mind. _“Six, this isn’t funny! Give me a boost, or so help me I’ll-“_ as he trips over something or other, landing in a puff of dust.)

A girl told her, once, that you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. She laughed it off at the time, (certainly didn’t appreciate _her_ , leaving Six to starve in that cage _)_ but it’s starting to ring uncomfortably true.

She shakes her head dismissively, but the thoughts still linger. Anyway - back on topic. It hadn’t taken long to notice the window, and from there she just did what any normal person would’ve done - throw a few toys at it from the other room, drag the broken TV over to the window, climb up, and voila! Outside once more, and ready to keep moving. Leaving the apartment felt uncomfortably like leaving Mono behind too, despite her plan to do the exact opposite.

She got over it, eventually _._ There’s no good memories to be found within its peeling walls, and with the TV destroyed, no chance of Mono coming back to her that way. She’d done all she could.

_(-if you were just a bit faster-)_

No. Six vigorously shakes her head once more, to ward off the doubts growing like mold. (And, partially, the raindrops sliding down her hood.) There’s no way she could’ve made it under the bed in time ( _right?)_ given the Thin Man’s closeness to her. Thinking about it even more than usual won’t change anything.

Still, regret tugs at her heart, and she can’t help but feel like something’s gone wrong at some point down the line.

Crossing the folding tiled roofs is a bit harder than she’d expected. Yes, she’d crossed rooftops and other treacherous terrain before - every runaway kid worth their weight’s had to, at some point - but the pressure of losing her footing on the slick surface at any moment forces her to move slowly, miserably hunched and only soaking her further. Even the normally eye-catching view is blocked by a wispy fog, and raindrops smacking her in the face whenever she lifts her head up more than a few inches aren’t making this any more manageable. She feels her cheeks burn up and a frustrated squeal passes through her lips like a kettle.

The most irritating thing? There’s no way for her to stop it - no puzzles to solve, no cogs to turn. Not even a heart to stop. She just has to endure it. Patience is not Six’s strong spot, however, and it’d be a lie to pretend she hadn’t thought about ignoring the risk and sprinting across the slippery footing a few times. (Maybe more than a few.)

Luckily, though, Six never once loses her balance. Maybe it’s due to her careful movement, maybe it’s out of pure spite for the constant dreariness of this city. She’s not letting _now_ be the end, not after so much conquered. Quickly clambering down a damp fire escape, ( _There won’t be any fires here anymore - there’s no life for one to spread,_ she thinks bitterly. _)_ Six reaches the pavement without any major concerns.

 _Done. Now, for shelter._ She doesn’t want to think any more than is necessary. Ignorance is bliss - her mind works best when uninterrupted by pesky doubts or the incessant _pitter-patter-_

 _Aagh!_ A droplet falls at just the right angle to sting her eyes, and Six is consumed by _sheer hatred._ The rain’s picking up - she needs to keep moving. Kill the sky later.

So it is that Six finds herself sneaking through drab, damp streets and alleys - some empty, some not. Her first encounter with a Viewer is unremarkable; the faceless shell stares at a TV, Six takes a closer look out of morbid curiosity, and then decides to retreat. Just another ghost, dead as the city it inhibits.

 _Maybe dead isn’t the right word._ She doesn’t know if the Viewers are alive - if their sorry existence can be even be called living. Do they remember who they once were, or have they forgotten even that, lost in the pulsating blue light? Six doesn’t want to imagine it.

_(The thought of Mono joining them, drifting into nothingness in the bleeding frequencies of the TV, spurs her to leave the husk behind in the alley.)_

She isn’t sure whether to feel excited or not by how quickly she’s moving. On one hand, yes, she’s making it closer to her destination, ( _even if she herself doesn’t quite know where that is)_ but for every impressive feat and satisfied, smug grin cast backwards - at a space now left unfilled - there’s a turn in her stomach.

No words can express her relief when she spots the welcoming lights through the fog. Trudging through the never-ending downpour was quite literally weighing on her, and Six was half considering just breaking a nearby house’s window and resting there for a bit before the bright yellow bulbs came into view, attached to a murky shape that seemed to twist and shift with the fog before solidifying into - a theatre.

Or at least, something that looks like one. Best not to judge off appearance based off the hospital; who knows what’s hiding inside. Still, she finds herself drawn to it, the bewitching lights pulling her closer and closer still, a safe haven from the _awful_ weather that Six has been cursing for the past hour. It looms up into the sky, not quite as high as some of the other places she ( _they)_ visited, but the difference is negligible. _It’s almost like a lighthouse_ , Six muses. The playbills and posters have long since become illegible, sitting alongside white paint peeling from brick. The whole place has a certain _feel_ to it - one very old and tired. It’s kind of out of the way, too, Six only having found it in the first place by going down a narrow alleyway.

She averts her gaze from the theatre, looking onwards. Everything is miserable - pouring rain cascading around her, puddles having grown into one great layer of water upon pavement, the mist (which had rolled in a good half an hour earlier, much to her annoyance) shrouding anything from a moderate distance. The only other real landmarks she can make out are what she presumes to be another one of the great chasms in the earth a fairly long distance away and the Signal Tower.

The Tower seems to burn a hole through the veil of fog and rain, its blinking lights burrowing into her brain and writhing whenever she takes anything longer than a peek at it. Part of her _knows_ she’ll have to go there at some point - it’s where the TV’s Transmission is being broadcasted from, so there’s a decent chance Mono could be there - but it’s _so far away_ , and the roaring of the storm is so heavy, and the light seems to stare down at her. _Leave,_ it whispers, _you’re not welcome here._

If it’s this uncomfortable to look at for Six, she can only _(guiltily)_ wonder how horrible it must be for Mono, who is driven into staggering moans just around a normal TV.

_(she’s starting to think maybe that’s the reason Mono tends to lag behind her, slow despite his longer legs)_

But - right now is not the time. She can’t imagine even another minute of being outside in this, not to mention the Tower bearing down on her as well. Six turns to the theatre. _It’s worth the risk._

First order of business is getting inside. Its doors refuse to move - taking a closer look through the foggy glass reveals stools pressed against the handles. Well, it’s not like she was expecting anything in this place to be easy. A few shoves against the door, trying to dislodge the stools with her (admittedly low) body weight proves ineffective; maybe there’s a window or something? A wet wooden fence cordons off the building’s sides, but Six is victorious with the ever-reliable power of climbing.

The alleyway on the rightmost side doesn’t seem to have anything of note - the few windows it has are far too high for her to reach, with nothing placed nearby to clamber on, and the path ends in a brick wall after a certain distance. Peering onto the leftmost side, however, yields better results. There’s a door atop a short set of steps, and although it’s hard to tell through the rain, it seems an _inch_ ajar.

That’s her way in. She hoists herself over the fence, landing with practiced softness onto the wet cobbled floor. You’ve got to learn these things, footwear in proper size being a rare luxury for a kid. Despite her urge to sprint inside to _finally_ dry off, Six makes sure to stalk closer and closer to the door in a crouch, trying not to alert anything waiting inside. Perched on the landing, she takes a deep breath, blood rushing to her limbs in preparation to run at the first sign of trouble - before opening the door just a crack wider and slipping inside.

It’s almost pitch black inside the theatre. Listening closely, careful not to make a peep, Six waits for the tell-tale wheeze of hot air into a lurker’s throat, or the quiet _squeak_ of shoe against tile. Nothing breaks the silence, and she lets herself exhale, although not dropping her guard just yet. Squinting her eyes, Six tiptoes slowly into the blackness, arms pushed in front of her as not to bump into anything. After a few moments of stumbling, her hands brush across cloth - she jumps back, and the lights flicker on _out of nowhere,_ revealing a figure _looming over her, ready to strike-_

It doesn’t move, even as Six scrambles away and rushes for the door, still blessedly open. She slides through the crack and rolls underneath a guard rail intended for something far larger, toppling onto the wet cobbles and into some grass. _Don’t move._

There’s a few moments of silence. Then some more. After a good forty seconds curled up in the grass, staying as still as possible, she starts to wonder - did it leave? Why isn’t it chasing her?

Six waits another couple moments, just to be safe, before _ever-so-slowly_ lifting herself off the ground. Still nothing. Putting the danger aside - she doubts whatever’s in there has just been waiting there for this long - she hesitantly climbs back up the steps, and listens from behind the door.

Silence, except from the background noise of rainfall. She lowers her hood in some vague attempt at camouflage, letting her matted black hair droop over her face, ends still soaking wet, before peeking once more through the crack.

The figure’s still standing tall from behind the desk - it doesn’t seem to have moved an inch. Extremely confused, Six takes the lightest possible step back into the room, lamps bathing it in a hue matching her coat. The thing still refuses to move, and Six’s worries start to subside. ( _especially when she notices the noose tied around its neck)_

Even in its _(hopefully)_ harmless state, it’s still freaky to look at. Its face and neck seem melted into one, skin sloughing off like wax - she has no idea how the noose even fit. The figure (most likely a he, given the face) is dressed in a smart red uniform, and a tiny hat in the same shade, somehow still resting atop his crooked head. A shiny bell rests atop the desk, his hand loosely covering it. The hollow eye-sockets gaze into her, and Six averts her eyes. It’s a little embarrassing, to be honest, but running away from a dead man is certainly less of an issue than if she hadn’t, and the bellman still had life in him.

She wonders, idly, what Mono’s reaction would’ve been. Would he have ran away, same as her? Pulled her back and showed her there’s no danger? Thrown something? ( _What was going through his head, tossing that crayon at the Thin Man? He really is hopeless without her.)_

The sobering thought’s enough, combined with the prickling on her neck, to get Six to pass through the archway to the left and move into the theatre proper.

The apprehension is _painful_.

There’s got to be something in here - something beyond brightly lit rooms and the dead bellhop. Yet, despite her exploring, nothing stands out as particularly interesting or dangerous. The foyer of the theatre ( _the word doesn’t really fit with this place, but it’s the closest one she has)_ is grand and has several doors, but most are either barred or lead to dead-end corridors. It’s eerily empty, and she doesn’t like it one bit.

Still, the lights had turned on _somehow._ That had struck her during a particularly ominous trek down a hallway, which wasn’t the most reassuring thought _._ Unless there’s some kind of automatic lighting thing - which is equally possible - something’s lurking in this building, just out of sight.

Clambering onto a plush green couch, Six decides (warily _)_ to take a break. Creeping down corridor after corridor without any reward or progress is starting to tire her out - how long’s it been since she last slept? She and Mono didn’t have the opportunity too often, but the uncommon brief nap in empty buildings didn’t hurt.

Runaways are used to going for long stretches without sleep; or, at least, she is. You never know when some too-inquisitive adult will come bursting into your hidey-hole, and that’s not a risk Six likes to take too often. She’d seen too many kids get complacent ( _or found the shattered remains of an attic or crawlspace, wooden exterior cracked and peeled open by a monster’s hands)_ to let herself make their same mistakes. Plus, the boost she gets from a meal is always enough to keep her up and moving for days at a time.

 _The faintest echo of a grumble fills the air._ Six grimaces. Speak of the devil. The pangs of Hunger aren’t kicking in quite yet, thankfully - but she’ll have to eat tomorrow. For once, this is a ritual Six is glad Mono won’t be there to witness. Sneaking bites from the occasional too-slow rat ( _and the living bits of the hospital’s patients)_ was already difficult enough to keep hidden from him, so it’s a relief that she can stop worrying about driving him away like all the others.

It’s best to keep the Hunger under control as much as possible. She’s learnt that the hard way, after a few many woozy awakenings with her face buried in something’s ( _or someone’s)_ throat - sometimes dead, often not.

Does he have anything similar, she wonders? She hadn’t met anyone who shared her Hunger, but Mono and the other runaways are _very different_. Maybe he’d be accepting, or at least tolerant of it.

( _She doubts it. Mono’s too soft - too empathetic - to let her get a proper meal. Better to hide it.)_

Anyway, Six realises, she’d better enjoy this rest. The theatre _seems_ safe enough, and after it she’ll have to find something to eat as quickly as possible. Rain will probably be gone by then too, and then she’ll continue. To the Signal Tower.

Getting inside that place is a bad idea, but it’s the best one she’s got. Its hum can be felt even here, echoing silently off the walls.

Six slides off her raincoat and leaves it in a pile on the floor - the jumper’s a lot comfier than the coat, as much as she loves it. The couch is in a corner of the room, but still open to attack - Six goes to close all the doors she can, barring them with scattered objects and chairs, before sitting back down. At the very least, she’ll hear whatever’s dwelling in this place trying to break down the doors first.

Lastly, she takes a cursory glance at the ceiling. Their run-in with the Doctor had opened her eyes, and she’d rather not be caught unawares, especially on her own.

Curling up into the armrest, Six lazily closes her eyes. Disappointingly, she’d be waking up without Mono tonight - usually she’d awaken with the sap sleepily leaning against her, bag stubbornly covering his head. She’d wait, patient for once in her life, ( _paying attention to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest)_ before he joined her in the land of the living, obliviously nuzzling into her like a pillow - then, he’d scoot quickly away from her, apologising and stuttering, she’d smile smugly with teasing eyes, and he’d be a mess for the next hour or so.

( _And the couple times he didn’t wind up clinging to her? Well, she’d just had to move over herself.)_

The memories settle in her chest warmly, and she’s claimed by sleep moments later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit less intense chapter this time. Six deserved a break.
> 
> Again, thanks for the support! And, don't worry, we'll be seeing a bit more of Mono soon enough.


End file.
